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scratchings 3

bad days / I damn this land I stand so sparse on // only thing here in this town / looks like me is the soil / is the soil / ripe and fertile / fit for growing. / I think she is my kinfolk / I think we have a lot in common / invisible in some cities / paved over, mostly / but what everything sits on / stands on / comes from originally // and so much of her, here. / a lot of farm & life for eating // I see the same robin each morning / she stands in conversation / with some other bird I hear / but never see / and I watch that chest heave / watch that chest heave / and that beak swing open like a book / just speaking / and want my chest to heave like that / like that. / I have in common / something / with her, also. / Listen: what I say / is shout or song, not ever talk / and I have a lot / and what I sound like ain’t / supposed to come from so small a me / alone / on so much land / oh / I’ve got soil for company // song for days //